Unstable
by Thick Soup
Summary: A child has self-image issues.


_Written for the HSWW (Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry) Challenge group, Sex Ed Task 3, the task being to write about someone having problems with their self-image._

 _Warnings: Detailed descriptions about a_ _melting thingy._

 **Line break**

"Dora..."

"Dora..."

"Where are you, Dora?"

Andromeda Tonks turned around a corner, looking the other way into an empty doorway as she did.

A relieved smile grew on her face as she heard the familiar gurgling of her one-and-a-half year old daughter.

"There you are, Dora!" she said as she turned her head back towards the sound.

"I was worried..."

Andromeda stared at the thing for a few moments.

"...sick..."

There was a slimy looking clump of... something in the centre of the room, in a height-proportion ratio reminiscent of a small child sitting.

Flesh-coloured blobs the size of ping-pong balls slowly emerged and retreated into the peachy gloppy mass as it rippled, the ripples causing some other blobs which resembled various internal and external organs to travel down the surface of the entity, disappearing out of sight at the bottom of the construct, only to rise out of the vicocious-looking liquid the amalgamation was comprised of like an bubble.

Andromeda stared at the blob.

The entity "stared" back at Andromeda with two half-fixed holes that flunctuated between being entirely pitch-black and being entirely hazel-brown in colour.

With a squelching sound not unlike the sound of boots being pulled from mud, a jagged crescent directed at Andromeda appeared on the thing, revealing a strangly entrancing network of pulsating latticing veins, arteries and capillaries behind the surface layer of the monster.

"Mommy?" said Nymphadora Tonks in an inquisitive and child-like manner, moving the mouth-like hole as she did so.

Andromeda sighed.

 **Line break**

"Ah."

The Healer stared at the young crime against nature as she bobbed her four pseudopods up and down in the air.

"Ah?" asked Andromeda.

"Ah," the Healer said with finality.

An uncomfortable silence filled with squishing noises and soft child-like sounds of happiness ensued.

"So..." Andromeda broke the silence. "What's wrong with her?"

"Well."

The Healer pondered for a while.

"She appears to be a Metamorphmagus, judging from your account of events."

Andromeda let out a whoop of delight, and picked up her daughter.

"You hear that, Dora? You're a Metamorphmagus!"

The child let out a giggle-laugh.

Andromeda then turned back to the Healer, and said in a deadpan voice, "What gave it away?"

"The shape-shifting," admitted the Healer.

"Oh, really? I never would have..."

Andromeda stared at the Healer for a while, sighing something that sounded suspiciously like a lament regarding the stupidity of the current generation, before continuing.

"Why is she like this, exactly?"

"Well, it could be due to a variety of reasons."

Andromeda stared at the Healer a while more. Nymphadora followed her example.

"...which are?"

"Well..."

The Healer looked around.

"Have you let her see her reflection in the past month?"

Andromeda stared at the Healer for a sufficient amount of time to make the Healer feel distinctly uncomfortable.

"...isn't that bad for a growing Metamorphmagus?"

The Healer stared at her.

"There we have it then. She's forgotten what she's looked like."

"...okay. Is there any way to reverse this?"

"You got new pictures of her?"

"As a blob?"

"Of course not," the Healer scoffed. "As a human."

"Those would be rather hard to obtaining, seeing as she's a blob right now."

"Are you seriously doing this?"

"No, I'm andromeda-ly doing this. Sirius' my cousin."

"...You got recent photos of her as a human?"

"No."

"Recent memories of her as a human?"

"Of course."

"A Pensive?"

"No."

"Pity. A jar of mayonnaise?"

"What?"

"Nevermind. Do you have a lot of spare time?"

"Sort of, yes."

"Great."

The Healer clapped his hands together.

A pamphlet appeared in a shimmer of magic.

The Healer deftly caught the pamphlet and handed it to Andromeda, who immediately started flipping through the booklet.

"It say here that I just need to spend a lot of time around her."

The Healer sighed. "Yup, that's the crux of it. After that, just teach her how to understand English, then tell her the definition of being a Metamorphmagus, making sure to emphasis how she is one."

"Anything else?"

The Healer sighed once again. "Try to get hold of a Pensive, buy a mirror only after her form's stabilised to an human form, and please, for Merlin's sake, stop listening to old wives' tales and warnings."

The Healer turned back towards the fireplace, and walked into it, making sure to toss a handful of Floo Powder in it first.

"Saint Mungos!" he said in a commanding manner.

As the Healer spun away, Andromeda could hear him lamenting about the superstitiousness of the previous generation.

"So, what did the Healer say?"

She jumped, startled, calming down when she saw the form of her husband scrubbing his wet hair with a towel.

"Oh, it's you, Ted. The Healer told me to spend more time around Dora," she smiled as her currently-non-humanoid daughter turned towards her upon hearing her name being called, "And he also have me this pamphlet explaining why."

She handed the pamphlet over to Ted, who accepted it absentmindedly while saying, "No, I heard that part. You both talk rather loudly. What was it he said as he was Flooing away?"

Andromeda huffed. "He called me superstitious. More specifically, he called our whole generation superstitious."

"Isn't he around our age?"

Andromeda blinked in surprise. "Really? He looks so young..."

Ted slowly started to walk out the room, making sure to make no sudden moves.

"Wait... then why didn't he recognise that..."

Andromeda gasped before turning sharply.

"Ted, do I look old..." she trailed off upon noticing the absence of her mentioned partner.

Nymphadora giggled.

 **Line break**

"Alright, Nymphadora, come here. Your father and I have something to tell you."

The seven year old clone of her mother trotted towards her parents.

As she did, Andromeda thought back on the past six years.

It had took three months for Nymphadora to turn into a humanoid form, and another five to regain features.

Within the span of another six months, she gradually started to resemble her parents.

By the time she could speak, she looked so much like her original self that they could safely let other people see her again.

Then they realised having a three-and-a-half year old that looked like a baby probably wasn't normal.

And then she started to lose the more prominent traits she had inherited from her father.

"Yes, Ma?"

Andromeda snapped back to the present, and sighed. "What have I told you about proper English, young lady?"

The decidedly unchastised looking girl sighed, much like her mother did. "Yes, _Mother_."

Andromeda nodded. "Good. Now, Ted?"

Ted said, on cue, "You see, Dora, the thing is that your mother and I..."

"Are having another child?" interjected his daughter.

"...No. I think." Andromeda looked towards her stomach region, before looking back up and continuing, "Let your father finish his sentence."

"Right." Ted coughed. "You see, Dora, the thing is, your mother and I have been keeping something from you for the past few years."

Nymphadora blinked in surprise.

"You see, Nymphadora Tonks, you..."

Ted paused for dramatic effect.

"...are a Metamorphmagus."

Nymphadora blinked once more. "...okay? What's that."

"It means you can change your appearance at will," explained her mother.

"Oh... Oh. OH!"

A wave of colour rose up through the child's hair, coating over the brown and spreading out to form a light pink tint.

"Hand me a mirror," commanded the child.

Ted held out a pre-prepared hand mirror without talking.

Nymphadora stared at her reflection.

"YAY!"

As they watched their child prance about in joy, Ted remarked, "That was easier than expected."

Andromeda shook her head. "Pink? I told you you shouldn't have exposed her to punk rock at such a young age."

Ted shrugged.

 **Line break**

 _Just a short bit about a baby having self-image issues._

 _Was going to write about Narcissa actually being a Metamorphmagus that had her powers bound due to disturbing transformations, but I didn't feel up to writing grim-dark._

 _That was probably a better idea. Ah well._

 _~Thick Soup_


End file.
